


Beneath the Silver Seas

by SwordDraconis113



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Australian Slang, F/F, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:32:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/SwordDraconis113
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg Jackson has been chasing Franky Doyle for the last six months, after making a deal with the devil, she's ready to go in for the kill and bring home Franky Doyle to the feet of her commanding officers and be promoted to commodore, a position well-deserved after her loyal service. All she needs to do is take a little side-stop to pick up an old acquaintance. </p><p>However when Franky makes a blood debt to end her services to the pirate queen, the chase begins as Franky and her crew searches for a lost treasure in the depths of the Silver Seas. </p><p>But all that glitters is not gold, and the pirate queen's mantle may not remain there long as a new ship makes its way into the waters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Against the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed there is like one not-canon-universe au in the Wentworth tag, and I like pirates, so, pirate au!
> 
> Bea and Allie will enter soon, but it'll be a growing romance.
> 
> Though Franky/Erica will happen, and my shipper heart will keep it as close and in character as possible, I shall give fair warning that Franky/Bridget **is** endgame. 
> 
> And yes, this is a) set in a fantasy setting NOT the real world/Golden Pirate Era though I will take bits and pieces from it. b) Australian slang af. If you get confused, let me know and I'll play around in HTML so you can hover over the text to understand it. Some Australian Slang is a bit out there and stolen from people I know.

1\. Against the Storm

 

The storm thundered on deck, plastering hair to the crew’s scalps and drenching their clothes. From the helm, Franky could see half of her girls heaving at the rigging. High above, the sails shook in the wind, threatening to tear off and cast themselves into the sea. 

It was a bitch of a storm, as if the spirits had condemned them all to Davy Jones Locker. Dark storm clouds bloomed with lighting, glinting off rocks in the nearby distance. 

Franky squinted through the rain, she had plans for her crew and herself. They’d just ransacked a merchant ship and had a nice haul to hand off to Atakanda, there was no fucking way that they were gonna be eaten by the sharks before they emptied their hold for a nice tidy sum. Atakanda was their home, for better or worse.

The crew was excited to return there. They’d be happier if they could make it out alive through this storm though.

A wave rose up, underneath them and the ship tilted against it. Franky clutched at the wheel, steering the ship against the wave as a crew member flew over the railing from the main deck, into the depths of the ocean. She didn’t glance back to see who it was. She’d lost two members of her crew, already. She had a storm to deal with. When they survived this, she’d deal with the losses.

Beneath her hands, the ship’s wheel groaned as she turned the ship, aiming deeper into the storm to curve around and turn north. They would be moving with the waves instead of against them.

“North?” Juice called over the torrent of rain. “You said we were gonna go fucking east!” As part of her riggers, Juice stood on the lower deck, short and large with an angry, round face. She was built like a rock and was by far, the most savage of her crew, along side her boys.

“Can’t yah see the fucking rocks?” Franky squinted through the rain. The wind was driving her ship too far forward, they were way off their mark. They’d have to ride the storm and hope to find their way back. 

Juice turned away, yelling at Liz — Franky’s sailing master and an older member of the crew who had supported her ascent to captainship a year prior — whom was trying to gain control of the rigging as Juice went around, thundering on deck, casting off orders to the crew.

The waves seem to grow wilder as the wind and rain struck down like pellets. Franky’s hands had grown numb with the cold, burning as she sailed them while Liz tried to find some landmark to pinpoint their location.

“Franky!” Kimmy reached out and grabbed at Franky’s coat to anchor herself. She’d come up from the gallery but her hair and clothes were already drenched by the storm. Franky glanced down, seeing the woman’s mouth move. She couldn’t hear a word over the thunder.

“What?” 

“There’s another ship!” Kimmy pointed behind her and Franky turned. Her eyes narrowed,  before a spyglass was handed to her. Looking through it, she caught a glimpse of the Royal Navy flag before the rain covered the lens. Captain Meg fucking Jackson. In the midst of dealing with the storm, Franky had let them sneak up on her.

“Fucking hell. They’re determined, eh?” She turned back to face the crew on the main deck just as a wave slammed against the side of the ship, knocking Liz off. Juice grabbed her, tugging her back on board with the help of one her larger boys, Stella. “Are they catching up?” Franky called back to Kim, handing back the spyglass.

“Too hard to tell yet!”

Licking her lips, she nodded. “Get the gunners!”

“We can’t ––”

“We have to!”

“But they’ll slaughter us if they engaged!”

Franky shook her head. “Nuh. Load the fucking guns! It’s the best option we have! They’ll slaughter us anyway!”

Kimmy swallowed and then nodded. Turning away, she slipped down the stairs, heading back underneath, to the gallery. Franky took a breath, pulling out her compass. The arrow spun, pointing briefly before losing north. Chucking it back in the depths of her pocket, she pushed against the wooden wheel, turning the ship again. 

They needed to pass the rocks, and then they could drive the ship elsewhere. She was hesitant to dock at nearby land, it was too dark to see any hidden reefs. 

“Oi! Where we fucking headed?” Juice asked her. She’d climbed the stairs, leaving the rigging to the rest of the girls. Fucking hell. 

“Get back to your duties.”

“And I want some answer, today. You’re bloody sailor hasn’t got a fucking clue what you’re driving at.”

“Am I stuttering today?” Franky snapped. Juice stepped back, her mouth parting to answer. “Fucking hell, we’re in a storm. Get back to work!”

Juice sneered, saying something to her, but the words drowned in the rain. Storming off, she went back to the rigging. Franky’s jaw clicked as she watched her. She was gonna have to make it up to Juice later before a mutiny was on her hand.

The wind had dropped, but the waves pushed on, knocking the ship either way. At her feet, Franky could feel the gunners below in the gun deck, knocking against the hull. This was going to be a huge shit-show no matter which way you cut it.

She glanced back behind her. Meg Jackson was almost in range. She could see the shadows moving on the boats. At least it wasn’t Jacs though, and for that, she was thankful that the captain was off rotting in some cell, waiting for her trial.

Jacs was ruthless. She thrived in a storm and would easily kill half of her own crew to get the upper hand on Franky.

Letting go of the wood, Franky allowed the wheel and rudder to turn their own way, pushed by the ocean. They’d past the rocks. If she was fast enough, she could get behind them and lead Meg Jackson right into them.

A roar filled her ear. Turning, she looked to see a wave, rising high, over the side of the ship. It was dark, glinting against the lightning in the sky before it curved crashed down onto the ship.

Franky grabbed the wheel, squeezing her eyes shut. The cold slammed into her, throwing her down, against the wood of the deck. Choking, she grasped at the wheel as the wave fell away, off her ship. The crew’s yelling hit her ears as she looked up, blinking through the rain. The ship was still upright, good.

Spitting out the salt, she shook her head and searched for her crew. The largest of Juice’s boys, Stella, had Liz in grip. Juice and the others were at the helm, glaring up at her as if it had been her fault the wave had hit. Fuck them.

There were a couple of crew missing, but that didn’t mean shit until they did a headcount.

Shivering, Franky pulled her coat tighter against her. It had resisted the storm for the most part, but the wave got underneath the leather, drenching her shirt and clinging against her chest like a layer of ice. Well, at least she’d had her wash for the month. 

Glancing east, she could see Royal Navy ship, curving around the rocks. It’d been a long-shot to gut them. When Meg Jackson came out from around the rocks, Franky would fire, so as long as there wasn’t another wave like that.

Pointing down, she called for Liz to come back up next to her. As Liz walked up onto the quarterdeck, Franky took in a slow breath, coughing out the last of the salt. 

“You called out?” Liz asked.

“See those rocks?” Franky said, pointing beside them.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hit them. Keep us parallel to the ship, yeah?”

“Whatcha gonna do?”

Franky smiled, patting Liz’s shoulder. “Send a message.”

Liz’s expression dropped, her skin paling. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Fucking hell. “Look,” she said. “I’m just gonna shoot ‘em a couple of times. Get their mast down.”

“And what happens if they get _our_ mast down, love?”

“Then we die, don’t we? But they’re gonna start shooting at us soon anyway, and I’d rather take the first shot, alright?”

“Well, it sounds like you know what you’re doing.”

Holding back the growl, Franky snapped, “I do. Just keep the ship parallel and _off_ the rocks, yeah?” They shouldn’t hit the rocks anyway, they were far enough that Liz would have to aim right for it.

Climbing down the stairs, she looked over at her girls. “As you may know,” she called over the rain. “Meg Jackson’s caught up to us. We’re gonna send her a nice message, yeah?”

“Yeah!” A couple of the girls cheered as the others turned to look at her confused. Behind Franky, Liz stared down, her expression stiffened as she looked out, over the ocean.

“Keep at the sails, fight against the wind, and let’s get through this eh! My shout on drinks when we make it to port!” Franky grinned at the girls, and watched their expressions. Many of them relaxed at the idea of free drinks, others seemed suspicious, still. 

Something didn’t feel right with the crew. A fight always got them going. Franky checked off the ones who weren’t excited, to remember for later. They’d fight for now, Franky knew that, but unless she could get a hold over them, she was gonna have a scramble on her hands.

“Not, get back to work!” Right now she just had to make sure the rest of her crew was underway for battle. She’d deal with the shit later. Climbing down, into the gallery, she passed the crew too ill from their last battle to be doing their duties. Tina stared at her with a broken arm, shrugging when Franky passed her.

Through the gallery, one of her crew was going around, emptying buckets of water where the ship leaked from above. Franky nodded at them, muttering about the battle and telling the rest of the crew to get down. 

She past the kitchen, when the cook, Jodie, looked up. “We gonna fight, today?” 

“Just shoot ‘em a bit,” Franky answered.

Jodie grinned. “I’ll keep cooking then, will I?”

“Keep safe though.”

“Got it.”

Turning down a hallway, she curved down another set of stairs, where the gunners were running around, packing powder and ammo. Boomer, her best girl and master gunner, was already ordering them around. “Kimmy here?”

“Nah, she’s run off to help the monkey’s haul up from the hold.”

Franky nodded, “Do you see her?”

“Who? Kim?”

“No! Jackson.”

“Oh! Yeah,” Boomer nodded. “Fifty or so metres and we’ll start firing, dontcha worry.”

“Aim for the mast.”

“Wha?”

“You heard me.”

Boomer looked down at her, her brow furrowed. “It’s a hard shot though, eh? A lot of ‘em powder got wet with the storm. I don’t know that we can do much of a fight.”

“Yeah, I know, but if we hit their mast, it’ll be easier than trying to sink them. I want them crippled so we can get away and load up on more ammo.”

Boomer nodded, looking over their at where the gunners were loading the cannonballs. “Right, whatever. You’re the Captain though, eh Captain?”

“If we get crippled,” Franky said, “we don’t have enough food to make it back unless we lose half our crew.”

“Got it. Don’t miss,” Boomer said. “Shouldn’t be too hard, it’s got a massive fucking flag on it.”

“Thanks.” She nudged Boomer’s shoulder, earning a smile before she turned away. Her steps stopped at the staircase, looking over at the working crew. The powder monkeys were small girls, petite like Kim, but the gunners were larger as they ran along the gun deck. “Hey, you hit it, and I’ll buy you one of those men at Akadanda you like –– and the gunners and monkeys gets a round of drinks too, yeah?” 

Boomer grinned this time. “I better hit it then, eh?” Her happiness decayed as a golden light caught her eye, “Hey! What the fuck are you doing lighting that, snuff it out, we’re not fucking ready yet ya dumb cunt!” She turned, nodding back at Franky. “Shit to do, see you later though. Looking forward to that boy, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” Franky laughed, walking up the stairs to head back onto the main deck. Last couple of hauls had enough money to deal with any minor repairs they needed. Hopefully this worked. 

Walking past Tina, she stopped her, grabbing the woman by the collar. “Any holes in this ship, and I want you using that one good hand to fit it, or I’ll be tossing you overboard. Got it?”

Tina’s mouth opened and then shut. “Got it,” she muttered.

“Good.” Franky climbed up the second lot of stairs, up to the main deck.

She pushed open the door, back onto the main deck and was hit with a mouthful of rain. Pulling the door shut behind her, she went up to pull her hat down over her eyes. It wasn’t there. Fuck, she liked that hat. Adjusting the blue bandana on her head, she took a breath and looked over to where Jackson’s ship was. They were in range. Any moment Boomer and the gunners would start firing.

Meg Jackson’s ship was tall and broader than her own, built for a large crew. It was swift on the sea and had been a worthy adversary in battle, many times in the past. Franky’s spine shivered as she leaned over the railing. There was no fucking way they could sink it.

 _Boom!_ Her ship shook from the first shot, the cannons blasting and missing the Royal Navy ship. They fired again, _boom!_ Franky squinted over at the ship, watching where the cannonballs hit.

Meg Jackson retaliated, a spark of light in the distance under rain and lightning as their cannons fired. Franky watched the ball drop, missing their ship by a good couple of metres. 

Another shot fired and Franky watched the ammo come right at her ship, slamming into the hull. _Fuck_. “Stella, get down there and fix that hole before it floods the fucking ship!”

Juice headed after her and Franky grabbed her by her shirt. The material slipped in her hand and Juice fell down onto the deck. “Oi! What the fuck was that for?”

“Get the fuck back to your duties, I didn’t order you to follow her!”

Juice growled, nodding up at her. Franky stalked away, up the wet, slippery stairs, onto the quarterdeck  where Liz was. Their cannons fired thrice more. Two hit Jackson’s ship: once in the hull and the other just before the mast. 

“How ya going?” Franky yelled over the heavy rain.

Liz grinned. “Good! They’re trying to hit the lower half of the hull though!”

“I need to take over now, alright?”

“Really? I just started though!”

“I need you to get down and help Stella. The ship’s gonna flood with another hit. Fix it, yeah? And tell Juice to put the sails down, I think they’re gonna aim at them!”

Liz nodded, leaving her side as Franky took control. Pushing the wheel, she angled the ship near perpendicular to Meg’s, turning it away as fast as could. The Royal Navy’s cannon fire hit the tip of her ship before she snaked back into position. Meg Jackson had enough ammo to sink her. All Franky could hope for was Boomer to know her well enough to aim according to her manoeuvres.

Another cannonball blasted from her cannon and sunk into Jackson’s ship, tearing through the deck. Franky grinned, before a ball flew through the air and blasted into the hull of her ship, through to the other side. Fuck. That was a nasty shot.

“Liz!”

“On it.”

Their surgeon had died the other week, the lot of them were relying on bits and pieces they’d picked up from her. Fucking hell, if anyone got hit, they were likely a goner this time, round.

A lucky shot struck from their cannon and hit the mast of Meg Jackson’s ship, but didn’t break it. Going by their shots, Boomer seemed to be aiming at the sails. Good girl.

Franky counted the shots, manoeuvring the ship back to east. Another shot hit her hull and Franky cursed between her teeth. They were going to flood in this storm. Fuck it, they’d done enough damage.

“Sails up!”

“We just got them fucking down!” Juice yelled.

“Good! Now get them the _fuck_ up!”

Franky curved against a wave, the ship leaned, threatening to tip over before it rocked against another wave and bounced up. Shit. She looked over her shoulder, Jackson was dropping behind as the wind tore through the shredded sails. The mast seemed to tip and bend, before snapping a third of the way up. Franky grinned. Boomer was in for a hot guy, and the gunners were gonna get two round of drinks from her at port.

Once they got through the storm, that is. The waves seemed to crash against them, and as they rode further away from Meg Jackson’s ship Liz came up to switch places with her. 

“Go on, the other’s need you to line them up,” Liz nodded, her hands taking over the wheel. “I’ve got it from here. I’ve been driving her since before you got your first drink.”

Franky smiled. “Alright,” she said. “Thanks, Liz.”

“No problem.”

Franky left with a short instruction to head east before ducking down the stairs, to where her crew was working to patch the hull. Stella and Doreen were working together, packing up the larger holes as one of the crew ran to and from the hold, grabbing supplies. “You got the other side of the ship?” Franky asked.

“What other side?”

“Fuck’s sake.” Franky pushed deeper, down at the end of the ship where the cannon fire had slammed through one side and out the other. It’d torn through two inner-walls, leaving a large hole that she could stick her head through. Far across, where their food stock was kept, water came up to her ankles. 

It was still flooding in with each strike of a wave and at this rate, it would sink them if a patch wasn’t done fast enough. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_

Boomer was already in there, patching the side up as Tina use one hand to scoop water out with buckets. Fat load of shit that was doing.

“Did we lose much?” Franky asked.

“Yeah, our load of the fresh water got smashed, and a bunch of like oranges and shit flew out the hull, I think.”

Franky nodded. “You need help?”

“Someone better than this bitch.” Boomer gestured to Tina. “Oi! Fucking hell, you’re getting more water in here then out!”

“At least I’m trying!” Tina snapped.

“Some carpenter you are!”

“I’ve only got one arm, and without me you’d be patching this shit sideways!”

“Hey!” Franky broke in. “Work together, alright?” She left, her boots filled with water as she made her way to where Kimmy was. “You,” she pointed at two of the gunners Kim was directing. “Get to the western side and help out there. Block the hole and then get rid of the water.”

“How bad were we hit?” Kim asked.

Franky lowered her voice, “We lost the fresh water we’d moved the other day. Got any empty barrels?”

“Yeah.”

“Get them up on the deck, tie them down and we’ll try to get some of the rain water.”

“The waves are too heavy, they’ll fill with salt. We need to get to land.”

“The storm’s still too rough, and right now we need to do _something_. We need that water.”

Kimmy nodded, “I’ll work something out.”

“Thank you.” Franky chewed on her lip, moving back up onto the deck. Kim was right. They’d need to make land, grab  some fresh water and check for damages. 

Up on the lower deck, Juice was handling the rigging with her boys as Franky walked up the high-deck stairs to take control of her ship again, dismissing Liz. She took control of the rudder, steering it back on an eastern route. Any islands were going to be too shallow to get the ship near. The closest port had been a week away before the storm hit. Now, however, Franky had no idea where they were. They could be out in the Silver Sea for all she knew.

She’d work it out. They needed to patch up first, get rid of the ocean water in her ship, count stocks, count heads, fix the injured and get through this storm. Once the worst of it was over, she’d think about a plan. 

The rain wasn’t letting up, but the wind dropped and lightning seemed to disperse, leaving only the darkness to navigate through as the last of the daylight seemed to bleed away into the horizon. 

Kim got some barrels up on deck to take in rain water, and ingeniously managed to tie up some pots to collect rain water that ran from higher deck, to lower deck. Unless a big wave hit, they could manage to secure some water from there.

She got a runner to take the water downstairs to one of the empty barrels beside the stairs. It wasn’t going to replace what they lost, but it may at least stretch far enough. 

Meg Jackson didn’t seemed to be following them anymore. She’d probably give up for now to repair her ship. She would return to be on their backs soon enough though.

When the rain finally died down and Franky retired the crew whom had pushed through the brunt of it, the secondary crew took over for the lighter rain and Kim took over steering the ship. After being awake for a near full twenty-four hours, Franky went to her quarters and undressed, stripping off the drenched clothes and hanging it out to drip-dry from the string she had running from one side of the room to the other. Towelling off the worst of the water, she dropped into bed and groaned. 

Her bed was soaked. Somehow, water had gotten into her quarters and had drenched her sheets.

She looked up at the small window above the bed. She shouldn’t have moved the bed from the other side of the wall.

Getting up, she pulled out a dry shirt from her wardrobe and lit a candle at her desk, opening up the map that she had up in the drawer. Placing stones down to flatten the edges, she took her compass out from her drying pants and opened it up. 

North spun briefly and found its position. Staring at the map, she tried to understand how far off course they were and if it’d be easier to continue onwards. Liz would be doing the same thing tomorrow, together they could work out a plan for the best port.

They would need more crew members. As it was, they’d lost six of the crew, and four more were unable to help up on deck until they saw a surgeon. They needed a surgeon, a real one, not Tina stepping in with her carpentry tools. They also needed new equipment incase they get struck down again.

There had to be a port close-by that they could use for the interim.

Kim arrived shortly after Franky had lit the second candle. “You should sleep,” she told her, as if Franky wasn’t aware of that fact.

“Bed’s wet,” Franky replied.

“You could have slept in my bunk, you know?”

Franky shrugged, staring at the second map she’d opened. The tools were laid out on her desk, with estimations written on pieces of scrap paper. Kimmy came up behind her, kissing her neck. Closing her eyes, Franky rolled her shoulders back, parting her lips with a sigh. “Ship isn’t rocking so bad,” she said. “Keep up the good work.”

“I think we’ve past the worst of it. I’ve got rotating crew, just in case.”

“Good.” Franky shut her eyes, dropping her back to tilt against the spine of the chair. Kim’s lips were soft and tasted like ocean. Though Franky was too tired to meet the eagerness of them, she didn’t mind the kisses.

“You should sleep,” Kim told her.

“When the bed’s dry.”

“ _Franky_. Haven’t you got any spare blankets?”

“Gave them to Boomer and Liz.”

Kim huffed, stepping back. “Stay here,” she said, exiting out of the cabin. Franky sighed, her eyes blinked tiredly in the darkness. Kim must have extinguished her candle when she wasn’t looking. 

In the dark, the room reminded her of the previous captain whom had once lived there. After the mutiny, when Franky had come into being the new captain, she’d stripped the contents of the room and gave most of the irrelevant shit to the crew. Slowly, she accumulated the new stuff herself. Made the room _hers._

She’d only been captaining this ship for a year or so. She’d originally been brought on as a cook about three years before that. Handwork, a nasty debt and her own charm brought her to the captain mantle, maintaining  that, though, was where it became difficult. She hadn’t counted on half the responsibilities, the way to hold control over the crew, but Liz had been helpful, Doreen and Boomer too, helped where they could. And Kim, she’d be lost without Kim backing her up to the other girls. They trusted her.

Franky’s eyes grey heavier in the darkness of her room. Thoughts seemed to swim drunkly in her mind as she closed her eye; nautical miles drifting amongst north-eastern directions and shapes of islands and countries. 

She was awoken by Kim’s fingers, untangling the bandana from her hair and tugging her down to the floor where a small itchy blanket had been laid out with a single pillow, with a much heavier, woollen blanket over that. “When you’re tired, you’re cranky,” she explained. “I don’t need the crew bitching at me because you didn’t get some sleep.”

Franky smiled, feeling lips press to her forehead.

“Thanks,” she whispered, the rest of her sentence swallowed by a yawn as she curled up under the blankets, falling asleep. She’d plot their path tomorrow, after she found some idea of how far off course they were. They might had to move to a small port, stock up on supplies before finding their way to Atakanda to have their ship repaired.

 

* * *

Meg Jackson glanced over the reported damages of her ship. Six good men and women had died through the storm. At the time, speed and ammunition had been in her favour. If it had not been for that lucky shot at her mast, she could have had Franky on board, imprisoned, with that bloody ship deep in the ocean.

Fault lay partially at her own feet –– had she not allowed her lieutenant to steer the ship, she may yet have avoided such a shot.

“Were you _trying_ to get us killed?” she asked Lieutenant Bennett. The mouse of a woman had the humility to at least look embarrassed.

“No, Captain.”

“So explain to me _what_ you were doing while I was aiming cannons at Frank Doyle’s ship?”

“A-avoidance tactics,” she stuttered. Bloody hell, did she always have to stutter?

“Really? Because we missed _two_ out of the twelve shots fired at us. Most of which went through the sails. Had you noticed that, Lieutenant?”

“Ah, yes. Yes Captain.”

“And you didn’t think to raise the sails to prevent damage to them, I see?”

“I-I did order that, as you can see in my ––“

“After _four_ had already gone through. Did you think she was just aiming at the skies to knock the clouds away?”

“No, ah, as I wrote in my report, I was ––“

“ _Vera_ ,” Meg Jackson said, spitting the name. “Do you intend to be promoted to Captain one day?”

“Y-yes?”

“Yes or no, it’s a simple question I should think.”

“Yes. I hope to reach that rank very soon, Captain.”

“And how do you expect to do that when you can’t use _simple_ avoidance tactics in ship-to-ship warfare? At this rate, I think you’re more likely to be demoted back to officer. In fact, I might have some words about it with the admiral next time we’re back in port.”

A knock disrupted the conversation before Vera could reply. Rolling her eyes, Meg Jackson called out, “Come in!” It might do some good to let Lieutenant Bennett stir in her conscious before she went back to yelling at her.

Will Jackson stepped through the door. “Report for you,” he explained. Vera looked up at her, waiting for orders.

“Thank you,” Meg Jackson said. Pointing at Vera, she instructed, “Leave. Get the remaining officers to patch the sails since we’ve managed to miraculously survive this storm.”

“Yes, Captain.” Vera nodded, leaving the quarters and shutting the door behind her. With her gone, Meg Jackson dropped back to sit at the edge of her desk, a breath exhaling her. She was fucking exhausted. A muscle in her back twang with every moment and there was a growing migraine that won’t desist until she’d slept.

Will came up to wrap her into his arms. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. Meg smiled against him, taking in a deep breath. Her shoulders eased, professionalism dropping from her body. It was nice to not be angry at someone for a bit.

Even with Vera’s incompetence, they’d weathered the worst of the storm. All they had to do now was make it through to port.

“Is she _trying_ to get me demoted?” Meg asked.

“She did her best.”

“Well, it wasn’t good enough.” She sighed, stepping away to look around and grab her report. “I don’t know how I’m going to report getting these repairs. If we had Franky Doyle, it’d be worth the damages.” She bit the inside of her cheek, looking through her own logbook. They were still _just_ under budget, but another attack like that would cause more problems for when they returned.

Will came up behind her, pressing his chin to her shoulder before taking the report from her hand. “Come to bed.”

“Not yet. Soon.”

“Go to sleep, then. Just for an hour and I’ll make sure the ship runs at full capacity.”

Meg shook her head, a tight smile on her lips, “No. I should go down to the brig, make sure our prisoner is still alive.”

“Already checked. She’s fine, having a good laugh at us though. Apparently she’s forgotten her own capture.”

“I’m not surprised.” She took a breath, glancing out through the window, out at the sea. “Doyle will be out searching for port, then she’ll head off to Atakanda.”

“We’re not following though.”

“I’m not _that_ suicidal.” Turning to face her husband, she pressed a kiss to his mouth then stepped away. “Off to your duties, I’ll go to bed soon.”

Will lifted his brows at her, then smiled. “Start taking care of yourself,” he said, turning to leave. “Oh, one other thing: Fletch mentioned that he might know where Doyle’s headed off to patch her ship. He did used to sail these islands before, so it might be worth chasing up.”

“Thank you,” she nodded. “I’ll speak to him later.” She smiled, moving around her desk, to sit in her chair as the door shut behind Will. She doubted Fletcher had any better idea to where Doyle would be headed. More likely, he just wanted an excuse to talk to her. Idiot boy.

She leaned back in the chair, drumming her fingers against her desk. She needed to get Doyle. If she had Doyle, the seas would only have to deal with the minor groups of buccaneers. Nothing on par with Doyle’s privateers in the last year, all of whom were a nasty clash of brute force or sharpened intelligence. Not unlike Jacs had been.

Making a decision, she headed down to the brig. The section of ship had iron bars, lining up three cells. In the last one, where a low, swinging lamplight dangled three feet in front of the cell, sat Jacqueline Holt, half hidden in the shadows. Her eyes glinted in the flicking candlelight, a slow grin slipping over her lips.

“If you’ll excuse me, Officer Miles,” Meg Jackson spoke to the officer on duty. Linda Miles rose, giving a sharp nod before exiting the brig, shutting the door behind her.

Captain Jacs, only ten or so years older than herself, didn’t seem all that impressive. There weren’t hundreds of scars on her body, her limbs were all there, and she had a full set of teeth. Overall, she looked like an unsettling grandmother. A tactic often used to unhinge her opponents. “Jacs,” Meg Jackson greeted plainly. “How’s the isolation suiting you?”

“Megan,” she returned. “I see Francesca has the better of you. Heard that mast crack all the way from down here.”

“Yes, she did managed to get a lucky shot at the mast.”

“Must have been that whore she’s got in her quarters. She always did have good aim.”

“Kim Chang?” Meg asked. “She was a merchant’s daughter, if you recall. I do believe she’s now the quartermaster though, and that Sue has taken over as Master Gunner.”

“Abomination,” Jacs sneered, “she would have been a terrible quartermaster. How have you failed to catch her, yet?” 

Meg Jackson smiled. “From what I understood, Kim Chang was the reason that half of your crew turned their allegiance.”

Jacs’ face twisted into a snarl, before smoothing over to become blank. Except her eyes, Jacs’ eyes were livid. “What are you down here for, Megan. Have you come to ask a favour?”

“You’re the one who volunteered your services, if you recall.”

“Of course,” Jacs smiled. “You want to know how to get on to Atakanda, don’t you?”

“Franky Doyle will be going there soon, I suspect. I’d prefer to catch her _before_ she reaches its shores.”

“Once her ship’s nice and patched, she’ll be heading out. We’re a little too far away from Atakanda.” She paused, smiling. “That is, if you got enough shots in her. If I were you, Megan, I’d catch her with her pants down. Atakanda’s a bit too…big of a bite for you, I think. Though I’m sure you’re used to quite a mouthful.”

Meg Jackson narrowed her eye at the woman. “Careful Jacqueline. I’d hate for you to get lost overboard in the storm.”

“That wouldn’t be very lawful of you.” She smiled at Meg, her teeth glinting in the lamplight. “If you watch to catch an abomination, though. I know what you need. You’ll have to make a little side stop, but I’m sure you can manage, what with that mast of yours.”


	2. Sixty Gold Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a thief on board, Franky has to make a dirty deal.

2\. Sixty Gold Crowns

 

The crew managed to make it to port to one of the Sehkit islands off the coast of the country. Tall bulbous trees lined the land, with broad leaves opened up like a flower, running down their sides, basking in the sun. At dusk, the leaves would close up again, against the boughs of the tree. 

Merchant ships filled the docks. At night, gas lanterns lined up amongst the pier as the last of the fishermen brought in their haul. However, it was too soon for the lantern-lighters to come out, the sun was still up in the sky, though low on the horizon. 

As they came up to port, Franky had made sure to give Doreen orders to get a day-surgeon to come over and check over her crew, they didn’t have enough money lined up to replenish the medicine stocks as well, but hopefully the surgeon wouldn’t be too much of a hassle until she got her pay off the Queen.

From the quarterdeck, Franky walked up to stand next Liz, watching the waves hit against the ship as her sailing master began aiming to course around into a vacant spot, over on the far side of the port. “That’s a sullen look on you, love.”

“We good, yeah?” Franky asked.

“Yeah, I reckon you did alright out there the other day,” Liz smiled at her. “Where are you going to head off to this evening?”

“See if I can get some supplies, maybe a trade run. The Queen aint gonna be too happy that I lost some of her stock in that attack.”

“She can be quite understanding though. If you make your case.”

Franky threw her a look, shaking her head. “Nuh. I’m behind on my debt to her.” Sighing, she leaned over the railing of her ship, looking down at the waters. There wasn’t much to see below the surface, some floating seaweed, little else. “Don’t tell the other girls though. That’s my shit, not theirs.”

“I won’t. It’s just between you and me, love.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, perking up as Liz began snaking around some of the other ships coming and going. “I’ll grab some coins to pay for the dock.”

“All official eh?” Liz laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’ll pay an extra couple-a coins to keep our name off the books. Don’t want Jackson clawing up out backs again, yeah?”

“I reckon she’ll be off repairing her ship, though eh? You got a nice hit on her mast.”

“Yeah, Boomer’s got a pretty good eye. Really stepped up to the mark since Kimmy moved on over.” She looked to her quartermaster, whom was leaning against the railing as she chatted with some of the crew. They all looked happy to be getting off the ship and stretching out their legs. Many of them had been getting a little stir-crazy as of late. “Make sure our ship’s taken care of, yeah?”

“Will do,” Liz nodded.

Franky headed off from the deck and walked down to where the treasury was kept in the lower bowels of the ship. The crew had been given their cuts of the treasury already, with a warning that if they overspent they won’t have much to do when they’re all at Atakanda. “Hey, Franky?”

“Yeah?” She turned to see Boomer trailing behind her under the dangling lamplight.

“Can I get some extra ––“

“You’ve already had your cut.”

“Yeah, but, the brothels are more expensive here, and I got get my stuff on, yah know?”

Franky sighed. “The boys aint good for yah here anyway, Booms. They’re not really meant for the girls, you know?” She glanced at Boomer, biting back a smile. Her best girl was pressing her brows together with a blank expression in her eyes.

“Nah, who are they meant for then?”

“ _Boys_.”

“Yeah, them, who are they –– _oh_.” Boomer giggled, shaking her head. “Nah, but they got girls for that.”

“Yeah, and some boys like other boys.”

“Oh. Yeah, like you like some girls, right?”

Franky shook her head, taking out the coins from the treasury to place in a purse. She’d have to discuss how much supplies were gonna cost, once she… Her fingers stopped picking at the coins. Reaching into the leather purse, she pulled out two seperate coins, weighing them in her hand. “Hey, Boomer, can you get Kim down here?”

“Why?”

“Just do it, yeah? And tell Liz not to drop anchor.”

She dropped the purse, going through and pulling out all the heavier coins and setting them in a pile. On a couple, she could see where the gold had been scratched off from rubbing against each other.

By the time she’d sorted through half of the stock, Kim came down to the treasury. “What’s wrong?”

Franky turned to her, pointed to the coins. “See anything odd about them?”

“They’re in two piles?” She looked closer, picking up a couple and weighing them in her hand. Franky watched the expression shift across Kim’s face. “Oh no.”

Franky stared at her, her lips pulled back against her teeth. “Did you see it happen?”

“Franky, you don’t think I did this, do you?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Franky stood up, pacing behind Kim. “When did you last check them?”

“Last time I was here, before we gave the cuts yesterday, but they were fine then.”

“Are you sure? Because it took you a bit to notice the difference just then.”

“No, I’m not sure. But I haven’t been skimming on my duties, Franky. I take good care of this crew.”

Franky stared at her, looking for even the smallest shred of deceit. Kim was young, sharp and a bit scrappy. She’d been here longer thank Franky had. She’d been the reason to raise her up and talk sense to the other girls. She wasn’t the type to have the stones to backstab her like that though, not for her own gain. Life was too cushy for her here.

“Fuck,” Franky swore, running a hand through her hair. “Count up how much is missing. I want to find the fucking thief.”

“What are you gonna do to them?”

Franky turned, glaring at the coins. “Cut off their hands? I don’t know, what do we do to thieves, Kim?”

Kim swallowed. “But we’re already down on crew. We don’t have enough to cover sailing to Atakanda if you go and toss them.”

“I’ll sort it out, alright? Just-just do your job!” Franky turned on her heel, stalking off. Fuck. If people were stealing from the treasury, it meant there was a big fucking problem she needed to get a handle over.

Kim was meant to keep her in the know with all that shit.

Unless ––

No, she couldn’t keep having those thoughts. She’d find out who did it, punish them and figure out what to do. Eventually, she was going to have to work out what lost her the respect in the first place, it didn’t come from fucking nowhere. 

Her boots marched up onto the quarterdeck where Doreen stood. Pulling her aside, she whispered what happened.

“Shit Franky, what are yah gonna do?”

Shrugging, Franky stared at her, “I don’t know, I thought I’d pull you over and have a nice chat over some tea, yeah? What do you think I’m doing?”

Doreen blinked, before her lips parted, “ _Oh_. You want me to find out who did it.”

Franky nodded. “They trust you and Liz, and I don’t want to have to go through people’s shit to find it. So either they put it back or no one’s allowed off ship while I do a supply run and you get a surgeon.”

“They need to leave.”

Franky shrugged. “And usually I’d be off abandoning the cunt on some island, or giving them a couple-a lashes, but I’m in a giving mood today and really need my crew working to sail through to Atakanda. So they return it and I won’t go looking for them, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.”

Franky’s eyes flashed. “Good, now I’m gonna get Liz to take her time to dock, and when that’s done, we’ll see what we have, alright?”

Doreen nodded.

“Good girl.” She patted Doreen’s shoulder and watched her leave. Dread crawled through her belly as she headed up to where Liz was. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” 

Franky looked at Liz, glaring. “Thieves,” she said shortly.

“Thieves…?”

“Switched gold coins with copper. Kim’s doing a count now, but I reckon they stole a fair chunk.”

Franky leaned back against the wooden railing, staring up at the sails. The sun was dropping low, the sky was already turning lavender. If she didn’t find out who did it, they would know they got away with it, word would spread and she’d have a fucking mutiny on hand. Fucking hell.

“It’s aways going to happen, love,” Liz said to her.

“What do you expect me to do, eh?”

“You’re doing you best, I know that.”

Franky pressed her lips together, watching Doreen speak amongst the crew down on the main deck. “Aint good enough, though.” She sighed, scratching her head. “Is it more money, or is it just to fuck with me?”

“Cuts are pretty fare. No one’s been complaining more than usual, but a couple of the girls have a gambling problem, and the Sehkit Islands aint cheap, you know that.”

“Sehkit's not cheap, either. Wasn’t my first choice.”

“It’s the closest we’ve got, and if Tina’s to be believe, those patches won’t hold for much longer.”

Crossing her arms, Franky leaned against the railing towards the lower decks, watching Juice’s crew. She trusted Juice about as far as she could throw her, but her gut instincts told her that Juice and her boys didn’t do it. Lucy Gambaro was by far one of the most cutthroat people. She was also one of the biggest cheaters and often played cards against the rest of the crew for their coins. 

It was an easier risk to swindle people out of coins than it was to go up against Franky and Kim, and no doubt she was going to be one of the loudest complainers if she couldn’t go out and swindle some honest men and women out of their hard-earned gold crowns.

Doreen came up to her as the sun almost finished sinking and the fire of the lamp-lighters arrived in the distance. Her expression unreadable as she met Franky’s eyes.

“Well?” Franky asked.

Doreen shook her head. “No one knows a thing bout it.”

“Bullshit.”

Doreen licked her lips, staring out at the island. “I did as you said, Kim’s speaking with some of the others, but I don’t think you’re gonna find your coins, but Franky, _please_ don’t punish the rest of the crew. It’s not their fault.”

Franky shrugged. “And? Someone stole money from the treasury, not me, so either we get less supplies, or someone can go and talk to the Queen about why we’re low on coins this haul when our lodge says something else, eh?”

Doreen’s mouth opened to reply, then stopped. “I’ll see if anyone remembers something new,” she whispered, walking back to the main deck.

“Get us docked,” Franky muttered.

“What are you going to do?” Liz asked. 

“Keep your nose out of it, yeah?”

Liz’s brows shot up before she nodded. “If you say so, love.”

She relayed her message to Kim, banning the crew’s leave off onto the island until the perpetrator was found. The crew would bitch, they would moan about it, and as Kim gave them jobs to tidy up the ship and do a stocktake, they’d start searching for the coins.

Either that, or they’d start muttering about how much a bitch Franky was and how someone else would make a better captain. Whatever, she’d deal with it later.

While Liz and Tina dealt with the ship’s needs and Doreen grabbed a surgeon. Franky wandered around the island. She had a couple of contacts here, some merchants she worked with, like Su Lin. Su Lin lived in the southern part of the island

The eastern side, where they docked, was relatively clean with plenty of plantation and animals wandering the streets, as you walked through and headed down towards the southern area of the island, there were less and less trees, and the only animals were either locked in cages or were dead and skinned, hanging by their ankles to be sold in the market section.

Houses and shops were cramped up against each other, with roofs that bowed over the mud roads and walkways, blocking out most of the sky, so when a full moon rose, bits of the ground seemed to glow where the light hit. 

Su Lin’s place of contact resided in a crowded area, where smoke drifting out from windows and multicoloured glass lanterns hung from lengths of string from one shop to another. Only the blue lanterns were lit that evening as Franky walked underneath them, dodging the low hanging gold lanterns to knock on the wooden door. One of Su Lin’s sehkit goons opened it, peering down at her.

“Here to see your boss,” Franky said.

“Name.”

“Captain Doyle. She’ll know who I am.”

The door shut and then opened a moment later. The goon was a good head taller than Franky, and twice as wide with golden-brown skin and a shaved head. He was dressed in a mix of traditional sekhit clothes made of vibrant colours, with standard boiled leather armour over the top. A two-shot pistol was latched to his hip, and a wide, thin sword was belted to the other side of his waist.

Franky eyed the sword as the door opened wider. She stepped into the den, where curtains hung from the ceiling, dividing the place into sections. A fire burned in a hearth somewhere, with redwood smoke drifting through the place. 

People were draped over patched cushions and old lounges, smoking opium. Although opium was legal on most of the Sehkit islands, it was not in most territories after the Confederate Council placed restrictions upon the goods.

Franky didn’t care for the stuff, herself, but she liked the gold crowns she got for transporting cargo. Jacs used to transport large hauls to Confederate Nations, Franky preferred smaller loads of cargo, packing it amongst some more legitimate crates incase they got checked in the docks.

“Franky Doyle,” Su Lin’s translator spoke. He was a young boy, whom could only come up to Franky’s shoulders. Dressed in silk clothes, he wore a red headscarf wrapped around his hair and knotted on the back of his head. Vaguely, Franky remembered something about it being removed at age of adulthood, twelve or so years after the child’s naming day. Or maybe that was for the girls? Fuck it, she was from the uncrowned territories. “You wish to speak with Su Lin?”

“She knows why I’m here.”

Su Lin spoke from a gold lounge, the sehkit language rolling off her tongue sharply as smoke blew through her nostrils. She wore a blue and silver purviesentian-cotton dressing gown –- Franky guessed by the hexagonal floral pattern –- over a greying corset and stockings. The gown covered most the parts Franky didn’t want to see, thankfully.

“Su Lin says, she ‘has no business with you’.”

Franky recoiled. “Why the fuck not? I did alright last haul didn’t I, got you shit to the southern countries in due time.”

The boy translated her words to Su Lin, and Su Lin spoke back to him, snapping the words. “She says, ‘One box of cargo was missing’.”

“Nuh. I gave it over, all four crates of that shit.”

As the boy spoke, Franky watched as an occupant of the opium den was lifted up by two of the large goons and taken away, presumedly through a backdoor, though the drapery made it hard to discern. As he passed her, the occupant looked out with vacant eyes, hanging limp between the two men. Fucking hell.

“Su Lin says she’ll give you another chance to not fuck this up.” 

Franky growled, she didn’t like her reputation getting a bad name. It wasn’t good for future business. “Yeah. Sure. How much?”

The boy spoke to Su Lin and nodded, “She says ‘fifty gold crowns and thirty silver pieces’ to deliver it.”

“Where the fuck to?”

“Atakanda.”

Despite the warmth of the den, a coldness trickled down her spine. Biting her tongue, Franky allowed the thought to pass briefly before refusing it. “Nuh. No deal.”

“If you don’t want it, we’ll give it to someone else.”

“Red will fucking kill yah for bring that shit in!” Two of the men stepped forward and Franky rose her hands. “I aint gonna do shit, alright, just telling her that she’s got her head kicked in if she thinks Red won’t sniff that shit out.”

The boy sat there, looking up at her with his mouth shut.

“Are you gonna translate that?” Franky asked.

“Unnecessary.”

“Fucking hell.” Running her tongue along her teeth, she stepped back, thinking over her options. She needed the money, fifty gold crowns was a shitload more than what was taken, but it wasn’t worth a crate of that shit getting delivered. However, splitting the rest amongst the crew gave her a couple of more coins to put back in her debt — if she wasn’t caught. If she was, she might as well gut herself now. “Fine, whatever. But you’ll need to get one of your girls to deliver it and I want _sixty_ crowns, alright?”

The boy spoke quickly to Su Lin. Su Lin looked up at Franky, her expression shifting into a grin before she nodded. Sitting up, she pointed to her goons. They disappeared, out through an amber curtain, leaving Franky to stand alone as Su Lin went back to smoking the opium, offering the boy a puff. Franky watched as he took it.

“Aren’t ya a bit young to be here?” Franky asked him. 

The boy tilted his head, looking up at her. “How old were you when you worked on a ship?” Smoke drifted from his nose.

Snaking a tongue over teeth, she laughed. “You enjoy working for her?”

He stared at her, expressionless but careful in how his eyes ran over her body language, piecing information. “It is training, you can offer me nothing.” He turned away from her as the goons returned, with a large, thick leather satchel filled with golden crowns. They handed it over to Franky. Then, grabbing her arms, began hauling her out.

“Tomorrow. Nightfall,” the boy told her as she was pushed out of the opium den. 

“Fucking hell,” Franky muttered, shoving them off as she held onto the heavy satchel of coins. 

Mutting under her breath, Franky made her way back to where the ship was docked. She needed another haul, or the crew was going to go apeshit.

Fuck, she shouldn’t be sneaking around the fucking crew. She should be stringing up the thief by their feet and hanging them over the edge for the sharks to find.

If the queen found out, not only would she lose her ship and crew, she’ll be made into a fucking pariah. Half of her walk home was spend considering buying a couple of drinks, maybe head to the Crimson Parlour and visit the girls, the other half was filled with anxiety and anger over what she’d done.

The surgeon was on the main deck when Franky stepped on board. She had dark curly hair, pulled back into a bun, and wore a three-piece suit with silver buttons and red inlay. Her face was friendly enough, Franky supposed, but her mood stopped considering anything else.

“How’s she doing?” Franky asked Doreen.

“Yeah, she’s good, not interested in staying ‘round though.”

The surgeon turned, smiling at Franky. “You’re the captain, I take it?”

“Yeah?”

“Some of your crew is showing early signs of scurvy.”

Franky sighed. “Right, I’ll get on that. Tell the rest to Kim, yeah?” 

“But ––“

‘Whatever you need!” Marching off, Franky run fingers through her hair. There was that extra money gone until they got to Atakanda. 

Kim was sitting on her bed when Franky walked in. Clicking her tongue, Franky shook her head. “Didja get the money back?”

“No one’s returned it yet. The crew’s pretty pissed about ––“

“For fuck’s sake, Kim.” Sighing, Franky turned away, heading to her desk. “Just get out. I have shit to deal with.”

“Franky!”

Franky turned to look at her, shrugging. “What?”

“It’s not my fault.”

“Well whose job is it to look after the treasury then, eh?”

Kim shifted, turning her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry don’t do shit, I had to make a pretty deal to get us out of this mess.” Kim looked up at her, brow pressing together before her face went slack.

“You went to Su Lin, didn’t you?”

“You better keep your mouth shut to the crew, or I’ll string ya up, yeah?”

Kim glared, turning away. “You went and fucked us.”

Franky turned on her heel, teeth tight together. “No, you went and fucked yourself when you left the treasury open to thieves. What the fuck did you think would happen?”

“Fuck you.”

“You already fucked me when you let that stash get taken. Now the crew’s got scurvy too. What the fuck’s that about?”

“What?”

“Get out!” Franky snapped, taking her heavy coin purse and throwing it on the desk. The noise of the coins hitting the table making Kimmy flinch. The sigh was only briefly satisfying as Franky turned around to the desk, her back to Kim. “Get your head out of your ass and do your fucking job,” she said. There was nothing, and then the door shut.

Shaking her head, Franky ran fingers through her hair. Fucking hell. 


End file.
